


he shouldn't have done it (and that's the whole point)

by Blownwish



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: High School AU, Incest, M/M, Thorki - Freeform, loki is a drama student, thor is a quarterback, using tom and chris instead of thor and loki
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 19:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Everyone could do whatever they wanted, but very few people knew this. Tom knew, so Tom did, until he didn't.[Using Chris and Tom instead of Thor and Loki, not a Real Person fic, though.]





	he shouldn't have done it (and that's the whole point)

**Author's Note:**

> As you can see, or I hope you saw, this isn't a real person fic. It was easier for me to write a high school au with these characters if I used the actors' names. Tom is operating as Loki and Chris as Thor. Please forgive me. I'm rusty. It's been many moons since I've written anything.

Tom was sent to the office for passing out condoms in the school cafeteria. “It’s important to promote safe sex,” he told Principal Skinner. “I’m willing to accept whatever consequences you’ll give me because I would rather have a ruined record if I know I kept one kid from getting an std or unplanned pregnancy.” He blinked back tears, his lip quivered and the woman who was ready to suspend him for the rest of his natural life put her hand to her heart and, viola, Tom had a pass to sixth hour and another golden ticket for his collection. 

It was a big collection. 

“Oh. My. Fuck.” Darcy popped out of the woodwork between the freshman lockers with a mouth so wide open she could blow a flag pole. “How are you still here?”

“Is that a metaphysical question?” He waved his pass as Mr Ford opened his door and walked away free as a bird while Darcy got an invitation to the office. Poor baby. 

Tom went to the drama room instead of his sixth hour Chem class. Mrs Smith, his drama teacher, didn’t mind. “I’ll tell the office I needed you to rehearse.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to Mr Gunter and he’ll let it go. I’m caught up in Chemistry, anyway.” He wasn’t, not in terms of completed assignments. Tom didn’t do things like paperwork. He just asked to have those excused on the grounds that he consistently aced the quizzes and exams. It worked out wonderfully. 

He stayed there through seventh hour, which was no surprise and not a problem. After school he talked to both Mr Gunter and Mrs Haze, who didn’t bother Tom with daily English assignments. “Besides,” she winked behind her harlequin eyeglasses, “All that Shakespeare? You learn so much with that.” 

Obviously.

He had no problem with his ride home, either. Darcy always waited for him in that beat up little black Focus. “Did you get in trouble?” He asked. 

She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out like a dragon. “Lunch detention. And let me guess, you got away with it.”

Of course he did. “She has some very threatening things to say. I was so scared.” Her eye roll was priceless. “I’m just grateful she understands how important it is. Lives are at stake and someone had to do something…” He had to stop when she clapped so he could savor it. 

“God, you are such a jerk. Here’s your twenty.” She slammed it in the car hood. He took it and let it fly off into the wind like a flag torn off it’s pole. “What the fuck, Tommy “You should’ve let me keep it if you were going to do that!”

“Put your cigarette out. Deputy dog is coming.” His car is rolling up from behind the east wing building. He waits until she’s kicked it under a beat up Camaro. “Let’s go.” They passed the stadium on their way to the 711 and saw football team practicing plays. He lit a Camel and sucked the smoke down like a drowning man. 

“Oh, big brother is looking extra hot today. Gotta love spandex pants.” She probably wanted to come over so she could ogle after practice was over. “Man, what’s it like knowing you are related to the finest piece of ass on this planet? Doesn’t that fuck with your head or make you curse fate or something?”

She was fucking annoying sometimes. “Yes. Because it means I have to listen to you practically finger yourself over him.” And because he didn’t want to talk to her about his brother. Or anyone. “You wouldn’t think he was so fuckable if you lived with him.”

She shook her head and took a long, slow drag. “Oh yes I would.” She slammed on the gas and laughed. “Oh fuck yeah I would.”

Tom watched the team gathering around the tall, golden headed god who towered over everyone. He could almost make out his eyes, and he imagined they would be narrowed and serious. His voice would be low and deep. And everyone was listening, watching, trying to absorb his light. What idiots.

“You don’t know him like I do.” But she wasn’t wrong. 

++

He told Darcy the carton of Camels was to cheer her up over the whole lunch detention thing, which was a lie. He wanted to shut her up. Everything with her was about Chris once school let out and her Focus started its inevitable roll toward his house. “Thanks for the smokes!” She hollered as he jumped up the steps, two at a time, making the old black stray cat who’d been haunting their yard since forever jump when he landed at the front door. 

Mom wasn’t home to prod him about his day or ask him why he was going into the wrong room after he bounded up the stairs. 

Tomorrow he would bring the flavored condoms he ordered off of Amazon and — oh! — he hopes he gets to muster up more fake tears and get her all moist over a camp performance. What a funny old cow.

He stopped laughing when the front door slammed hard enough to shake the endless football trophies mounted on the shelf over Tom’s head and the foundations of fucking heaven. He sat up when he heard heavy thuds on the staircase. He combed back his hair and kicked off his shoes right before the door swung open and banged against the doorstop.

He was already there before the sentence was finished. He looked up and rubbed his cheek against the crotch of those stinking sweatpants just to see the needy look in the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. “Hi, Chrissy.”

++

Chris, Christopher, Chri-Chri, Chrissy. Beautiful Chris, big, golden and beautiful Chris -- God, he really was like sunshine, like a beam of light capable of burning through everything. 

Tom kept his wrists behind his back as one big warm hand held his jaw and another held him by the roots of his hair. He gagged, he always gagged, and Chris never stopped when he did. Not Chris. Never Chris, no. He thrusted deep down Tom’s throat until his face was pressed against his pubic bone, and it didn’t matter how hard it made Tom choke and gag, Chris was going to keep his dick down his throat until he was ready to pull it out. Air felt like life and Tom gasped for his when Chris finally yanked his head back. He didn’t bother licking when Chris smacked his face with his dick. Chris was sneering. Let him sneer. He was sneering because it was easier than begging. The fucking jackass could’ve gone to that prima donna he called a girlfriend, but he didn’t. And why? Why wasn’t Chrissy at Jane Rotten-Crotch’s house listening to her fake moan through some limp hand job? 

Tom looked up at Chris like his heart was breaking and opened his mouth, wide. “God, why do you let me do this?” Chris hooked his thumbs at the corners of Tom’s mouth. Why wasn’t he fucking Jane? Why was he fucking his brother’s face? “I hate you for letting me do these things.” But he wasn’t stopping. He never stopped. 

He flipped Tom around and pressed his face into that old Minnesota Vikings throw blanket Chris kept on the end of his bed. He knew Tom’s spit and slobber would get all over it. He wanted Tom to do that, to mess things up, to mess him up, to make good old Chri-Chri into someone no one would recognize. No one except Tom. Chris was welcome to hate him for it. “You should tell me to stop! You should stop me!” Chris yanked down his sweat pants and growled when Tom pushed his bare ass up. Chris spat and put his dick between Tom’s ass cheeks. 

Why was Chris, the Golden Boy, Texas All State Quarterback and veritable god of Churchill High School, rubbing his dick between his brother’s ass cheeks? Why was he grabbing his brother’s hair and shoving his fingers in his mouth? Why was he coming all over his little brother’s back, cursing him like he was hexed? Why? 

Tom smiled as Chris stumbled to his feet. It was so obvious. Chris couldn’t help it, that was why. Chris couldn’t even look him in the eye as he pulled up his sweatpants. He was powerless, ashamed. Tom touched his cheek and smiled. “Cheer up, Chri-Chri. You know I won’t tell a soul.”

Chris never stopped staring out the window as if mesquite trees were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, which would’ve been true in a world without mirrors. God, he was so beautiful. So beautiful. 

Beautiful and his. 

++

Tom didn’t believe in limits. People liked to compartmentalize, to sort life into neat little organized boxes, to imagine they had it all figured out because they had a box and a label for just about anything. But were are no compartments, no boxes with good strong lids to keep things tamped down. Logic unwound, the will wore down, and possibilities were always there. Tom could push any limit with anyone.

“You are wasting your time.” Except one person. “You shouldn’t be in Drama. You should’ve stayed in Track.” His father was leaning over his empty plate, watching Tom, seeing Tom for what he was. “Now all you do is think about pretending to be someone else.” 

“What’s the matter? Disappointed your son’s a fag or a stereotypical fag?” If he can’t convince Dear Old Dad that up is down and black is white, he can still push back. It was funny when DOD shot him the evil eye. Sure, Tom was the only one laughing, but he didn’t care. He shoved more roast in his mouth when Chris cleared his throat.

Dad pointed at him. “Don’t.” Of course Chris wanted to say something. Oh, the tortured look! If only his little playmates at school saw all that delicious, tortured guilt. Poor Chri-Chri. Tom laughed harder. 

If his father told him he supported his acting he would drop it and get on the track team midseason just to spite the bastard. It wasn’t that he hated Dear Old Dad, he just hated being told who he was supposed to be and that just happened to be the old man’s speciality. 

Tom smiled at Chris, then his mother. “The roast is delicious, Mom.” She would smooth it out later. She always did. Mom had her own way of making people do what she needed them to do with her sweet nods and careful words. She waved her hand and Dad sat back, relaxed as she gave Loki a look. 

Chris could shine like the sun all he liked but he kept his head down at home. Must’ve been tough being Dear Old Dad’s favorite. Loki didn’t see the benefit, only an old man who thought he could keep sunshine in a box. 

Didn’t matter. Tom knew how to set it free. 

++

Tom was at play practice after school, like any other Wednesday. There were no consequences for tossing flavored condoms in the cafeteria during lunch, not even so much as a visit to the office this time. Darcy decided to swing on by and sit in the theatre seats while Tom wowed them all with his version of the St Crispin’s Day Speech. It wasn’t perfect but perfection wasn’t the point. Mrs Smith clutched her heart while Darcy and two dozen other mere mortals sat dumbfounded because he made students who weren’t even enrolled in srama come into the little theatre to watch him perform Shakespeare of all things. And they loved it. Of course they loved it, and they loved him for making fiction more real than real life.

“I swear you can do anything.” Darcy smacked his arm. “It’s disgusting.” She was probably right, but he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. It didn’t bother him. “Almost as disgusting as your brother’s perfect ass.” 

But later, when she was driving him home he took her carton of camels out from under the passenger's seat and tossed them out the window. She yelled a lot. She swore she would never talk to him again and peeled out of his driveway like a pissed off bitch on her period. It didn’t matter, she would pick him up tomorrow morning. He wouldn’t have to call or beg, he wouldn’t have to say a word. All he had to do was wait. He had plenty of golden tickets. 

Meanwhile Chris was already home from practice, waiting for Tom to mess him up again. Tom knocked with one tap. He got on the floor with one push. He looked up at him like St Sebastian waiting to be shot full of arrows. 

“Happy to see me, Chrissy?”


End file.
